39. BAD NEWS
LEESA SAT ON HER BED, her back propped comfortably on a pillow against the wall, watching the news. Since her latest dream, she checked the news every evening, either the six o’clock broadcast or the late night one, looking for any story that might in some way match the nightmare. Sometimes she watched both broadcasts. The zombie attack on the two camping families had seemed even more realistic than her first two dreams. Since those two had apparently shown real events, she was afraid this one might, too.
Two, then three, and now four days passed without any story. She hoped the absence of any news meant her nightmare was just that—a nightmare—and not some kind of special dream like the others. There was another possibility, though one she prayed was not the case. The lack of any story might just mean the kids and their fathers had not survived the horrible attack. With no witnesses, there would be no one to recount the tale.
Still, even if everyone had been killed, six missing people should have been newsworthy. Of course, there was nothing in her dream to tell her how long the families had planned to camp—it was possible no one had even missed them yet. There was also nothing to indicate where it had taken place. If the attack occurred in a far away state, six missing people would probably not make the local news here in Connecticut, and might not make any national broadcasts, either.
She was lost in her thoughts and only half paying attention when the words “missing families” suddenly registered in her ears. She grabbed the remote and quickly turned up the volume.
The reporter, a pretty woman with black hair who looked very cold, stood a few yards away from a dark red SUV. The car was parked at the edge of a dirt parking lot adjacent to some barren woods. Yellow police tape had been strung around the car, keeping the reporter and a small knot of onlookers away. A longer barrier of tape snaked through the trees, marking off a large section of woods. Leesa tried to recall the color of the SUV from her dream, but she had been much more focused on the two dark forms stumbling toward the vehicle than on the actual car itself.
The woman was in the middle of her story. Leesa leaned closer to the television.
“Police report that there were signs of a struggle in both the car and at the campsite, but are not revealing what those signs are, other than to say no blood has been found in either place.”
Leesa’s heart lightened at the no blood comment, but what she heard next did little to keep her mood up.
“Lead Detective Tannis Conner has confirmed that no bodies have been found,” the reporter continued, “but that only heightens the mystery. Where did two capable adult men and their four children vanish to, leaving their car, tents and equipment behind? They were expected home Sunday night and have now been missing for four days.”
The woman tucked a stray lock of raven hair behind her ear.
“This is Teresa McMillan, reporting from the Berkshires.”
The picture switched to two female anchors, who made sympathetic comments on the story and then segued to a commercial.
Leesa stared numbly at television for several minutes before finally switching it off. She got up and began pacing around the room.
Her worst fears had come true. Not only had her dream apparently come to pass, but the shadowy figures heading for the SUV could not have been the two fathers—which meant they were zombies instead. For some reason, the kids hadn’t escaped either, despite the father’s admonishment to drive away at the first sign of danger. Leesa imagined the two girls hoping against hope it was their dads approaching out of the darkness, and when they finally realized what was coming toward them instead, they had been too paralyzed with fear to drive away. She wondered what happened to the four kids, but quickly chased that thought from her head. She was better off not knowing.
Once again, she cursed this stupid power that continued to torment her with images she did not understand and had no power to stop. She sat back down on the bed and drew her feet up in front of her, hugging her knees to her chest. What good was it to see such horrid events but not be able to do anything about them? The old refrain “ignorance is bliss” had never sounded so wise to her. If those waziri wizards had been burdened with powers anything like this, she thought, they had probably wiped themselves out simply to put an end to their frustration.
She did not know how much more of this she could take.